Half-Past
by nitrolead
Summary: Thor found his body stunned, as if waiting for someone, something, to snap him out of his stupor and explain to him, to tell him, how he was supposed to react to the sleeping babes in the room down the hall when their mother, his beloved, was lying lifeless just beyond the doorway he could not bring his legs to step though. Thor/Jane & appearances by other characters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Ever since TTDW came out in theaters, I've had a heck of a time reading my way back through all the fics that have been written by this fandom. I wasn't planning on making my own contribution, but the story just formed in my head. I hope you find it interesting enough to give it a shot!

* * *

**Chapter 01**

Steve Rogers paused for a moment to wipe the sweat off his brow with the damp handkerchief in his pocket. He gave himself a breather too, for he normally did not run like hell for nearly an hour in the humidity New York summers were famous for. He took a deep breath and released it, before continuing to bound up the stairwell.

As soon as he received the call telling him of Jane Foster's passing and of his orders to leave for the hospital immediately, he'd done exactly that without a second to spare. He was still in his gym gear as a result, but none of that mattered. A teammate, a _friend_, was in dire need of help. Truth be told, Steve hadn't a single clue what he would do or say when he saw Thor. The Captain had a suspicion he'd been tasked with this partly because if the Norse God of Thunder lashed out or became violent, he was the best suited of the Avengers to control or survive such an onslaught.

Waving the thought away, Steve reached the fifth floor and pushed against the door as it acquiesced with a loud screech. His eyes darted around to take in his surroundings, heavy breathing coming through his nose.

"Excuse me, sir," he flagged down a janitor walking in the opposite direction, "might you be able to tell me where the maternity ward is located?"

The man raised an eyebrow at his appearance and pointed. "Yes, it's-"

"Thank you, sir."

He gave him a nod and dashed in the direction his finger was pointing. The Captain's head swiveled as he slowed down to a brisk walk to read the placards and arrows on the walls. A left here, a right there, a turn-around when he went the wrong way, and then another left. When he saw a man crouched next to a woman in a wheelchair both gazing attentively at the bundle in her arms, he knew he was in the right place.

In five long paces, he reached the front desk.

"Jane Foster." He stated with more curtness than intended, "There was a man here very recently looking for her, about 6'4-"

"Yes," the eldest of the three nurses behind the desk replied in a sad tone, "the poor man looked so distraught and lost. All he wanted was to know was where she was."

"We offered to call in the chaplain but-"

"Is he there now?"

"No," a man answered, "I went to go check on him a few minutes ago. He wasn't in the nursery either."

Steve sighed and dropped a fist on the counter with resignation. Where could a grieving new father be?

* * *

It was half-past four in the morning and there were not enough words in the world to properly describe the many emotions currently plaguing the Norse God of Thunder. There was "anger", that unwanted companion who shows his face when things turn contrary to expectations- Jane had gone behind his back and asked the people at SHIELD central command to withhold news she had gone into labor until the mission he'd been assigned to was complete. "Rage", that Nick Fury and his cronies had actually complied "for the sake of the mission" as one had blubbered when Thor hoisted him up by the collar. "Hurt", that Thor had missed being by Jane's side the moment the woman he loved dearly finally brought into their lives the twin boys she'd been carrying in her belly all these long months. And then there was "grief", that boundless, ancient emotion that tears at the heart and buries itself deep in the soul of the unsuspecting.

Oddly, these feelings and the many more that went unnamed did not bring confusion to his mind. Rather, Thor found his body stunned, as if waiting for someone, _something_, to snap him out of his stupor and explain to him, to_ tell_ him, how he was supposed to react to the sleeping babes in the room down the hall when their mother, his beloved, was lying lifeless just beyond the doorway he could not bring his legs to step though.

So he stood alone.

The longer he remained so the more he grew disgusted with his behavior. He'd seen bodies on the battlefield, their blank eyes devoid of light. All that carnage, all those images. Many a time he'd been responsible for delivering violent deaths, sometimes with Mjolnir, sometimes with only his hands. Why should this be any different? Especially in such a sanitized and quiet environment where there was no danger of an enemy taking advantage of his lapse in focus?

Thor summoned what remained of his depleted courage and took a hesitant pace forward, and then another, until he was forced to blink rapidly to bring clarity to his vision.

He was not passing though the door, he found, but moving past it. No, he refused to see her. Not like that.

Never.

Instead, Thor stumbled down the corridor and grasped at a door handle, for no reason other than it seemed like the right thing to do. The room was empty and he quietly shut the door, before moving towards a simple folding chair. He sank into it and let his body lose form, one arm in his lap and one grazing the floor. One leg jutting out and the other at a lazy angle.

And then...

Nothing.

He merely listened.

The atmosphere was calmer than he was used to. Then again, Thor had never had reason to be at a hospital at half-past five in the morning. All the appointments he had accompanied Jane to were scheduled during the day. The last one had been made to inquire why the boys were late in arriving. To his understanding, (because Thor from very early on made sure to verse himself well with the available literature on maternity, which to his astonishment was quite plentiful in Midguard) it was common for twins to have an early delivery date. But it was nothing to worry about, the doctor had assured them. In fact, they would be wishing they had used the extra time to get more sleep. The doctor had chuckled at his comment. So had Jane.

* * *

Steve peeked though the window of each door as he passed by it. If there was no window, he knocked, took a look inside, and then moved on. So far, the first twenty or so rooms yielded no Norse God of Thunder. The Captain decided the best thing to do at this point would be to finish up scouting the rest of the maternity ward and perhaps the rest of the floor before calling in to HQ to report.

He continued at this pace for another ten minutes. Had it not been for the dawn and its' first rays trickling into the rooms facing east, Steve would have missed the edge of a familiar shoe in the 39th room. As those running shoes were custom-made and issued to select SHIELD "employees", it could only mean one thing.

Thor.

Steve reached for the door handle and paused, briefly squeezing his hand into a fist as if to prepare himself.

Habit told him to knock before entering a room, so he did.

"Thor?"

Despite the lack of response, Steve knew the search was over. For a god, the man was dressed simply: jeans, a black t-shirt and a gray zip-up hoodie. Not knowing what else to do, the Captain closed the door behind him. He stood there awkwardly and slightly frustrated. Should he walk over, place a hand on Thor's shoulder and say everything was going to be alright? No, that would probably result in him getting punched clear though a wall. Quite frankly, he'd be lucky if he was still in one piece.

"Friend," Thor spoke suddenly, "I wish to be alone."

"I'm afraid I can't do that." Steve quickly replied, "I'll be silent, if you want, but I'm not going anywhere."

Silence.

Steve admitted he did not know what he should do next, but whatever it was, it definitely involved getting Thor out of this small room, or at least somewhere that wasn't so solitary. True, his friend was grieving, but being alone in a situation such as this... surely it wasn't good for the soul.

An idea struck him.

"Have you seen them yet?"

Thor blinked, and even against the dimness slowly dissipating against the rising sun, Steve caught a flash of confusion pass that bearded face.

It was at that moment the reality of Jane's death hit the Captain.

They hadn't been close friends at first, but what friendship begins that way? They started out as acquaintances due to sharing the same employer and because one of his colleagues happened to be her boyfriend. One day during lunch at the SHIELD cafeteria, she'd been sitting by herself next to a window looking down upon the city. Steve thought this a good opportunity to ask Jane a question that had been bugging him for over a month: how did helicopters work? He didn't ask Tony, as the man was rarely ever around and the same applied to Dr. Banner, who was somewhere in Central America at the time.

Three hours later (and very much over their lunch break), Steve found himself invited to join her and Thor that evening. Jane said it was a wonderful learning experience to have to explain how things worked to Thor whenever they went out on the town to "explore the culture and society of Midguard", as the god later phrased it. She figured having Steve tag along would kill two birds with one stone, but Jane saw his reservation and quickly understood his hesitance. "Don't worry," she smiled, "you wont be a third wheel."

And that is how he'd been introduced to Darcy.

The memory brought a sad smile to his face. It was through those weekly get-togethers that he had gotten a better understanding of the modern world and become good friends with Thor and Jane.

Steve sniffed.

"C'mon." His voice left no room for negotiation: this man would see sons Jane had given her life to bring to this world.

Steve reached an arm around his friend and lifted Thor to get him standing. Even with the Captain's enhanced strength, the Norse God of Thunder was a heavy fellow.

Out of the room they went, around some corners (and questioning looks, whether it was because of his sweat-stained clothes or the fact that he was assisting a man with the frame of a professional football player), but before too long they were inching their way towards the chorus of crying newborns.

"Hear that?" Steve breathed out, "I bet your boys are leading the pack."

The trudging brought back the all too real recollection of helping wounded buddies escape the torrent of enemy bullets through mud and rain. This man, the one he was trudging with had a wound that was not visible and would probably never heal.

"Look," Steve edged his friend to the large window, "look at all the babies here. Something of a sight, don't you think?"

He was relieved to see that for the first time his friend exhibited something other than a withdrawn demeanor. Thor actually looked interested.

"Wow, they actually helped us a bit," Steve had to smile. " See? They placed 'em right in front of us."

True enough, there they were: two babies wrapped in light blue blankets all too eager to find out which of the two had the more powerful set of lungs. "Thorson" was all the two placards read. The Norse God of Thunder leaned in and placed his forehead against the glass, taking in the sight.

It was a striking contrast, Steve observed: the sons wailing, the father quiet.

"They..." Thor began. He pursed his lips and lowered his eyes, leaving the sentence hanging and unfinished.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I did writing it. It started off on a bit of a somber note, don't you think? Worry not, for it'll pick up from here. R&R ladies and gents!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Worry not, citizens, for I have returned with some THANE.

* * *

**Chapter 02**

Jane blinked.

Her eyes prickled and in her midst floated blurry spots the color of soapy dish water.

So she blinked again and when that did not help, she took the butts of her hands to her eyes and began scrubbing. Finished, she dropped her arms and counted to five.

_One, two, three, four, five._

It proved to be of no use because when the dark spots dissipated and finally gave way, _it_ was still where.

Jane bit her lip. She had repeated the cycle of blinking and scrubbing and squinting four times already and each time no change had occurred.

_Am I really that pale?_

She blinked for a last time and with that, her hope flew out the window.

_Damn it all._ Jane established that although the person lying on the gurney looked like Jane Foster, it couldn't possibly be her, but if that was the case, then where was _she_? The person thinking these thoughts?

_What the hell is going on?_

Jane furrowed her brow and tried to make sense of the situation. _Alright, I just felt my eyebrows move...this probably isn't a dream then. Think, Foster, think._

With a head slightly dipped and her left hand cupping her other elbow, Jane closed her eyes and let her senses take over.

For a brief period, nothing registered while her body grew accustomed to the change. Slowly but surely, she began to pick up on things: the coolness of an unfamiliar floor, the soft touches of the thin papery material against her skin, and a familiar scent floating in the air.

Outside, a cart rattled.

She sniffed._ Hospital food?_

Her eyes tore open.

_No. _Her eyes darted back to herself in sheer horror. _No..._.

Jane bolted out the room.

With so many thoughts and worries coursing through her mind, she strained to remember the exact path to take. Jane swerved to the left, and to the right, and then to the left again briefly marveling that she never seemed to brush against anything, much less crash. Where a bump to the elbow might have given her a funny bone or a misstep caused a stubbed toe, nothing happened. There was nothing to stop her, so she kept on going.

Jane surmised that if she truly was a ghost or a spirit or whatever, as she was beginning to suspect was the case, then surely she could bypass things a living person would otherwise be unable to. It was a silly conclusion, one most definitely not rooted in science, but she'd have to file away the thought for another day. She really had more important things to worry about at the moment: were her sons alright? Were they being looked after? And how was Thor?

_Thor._

Her knee locked and Jane skidded. Whirling arms failed to support her balance and she fell flat on her back with such a force the air left her lungs.

_Oommph! _

She stirred a bit and let out a grunt. In any other situation Jane would have snickered: how was even possible for her to feel pain when she was already dead? But, now that she thought about it, that "any other situation" was non-existant as she had never experienced... whatever this was. The afterlife? An out-of-body experience? Sure, Jane had been close to biting the dust before, but she had never _actually_ died, as she believed was the case now. For whatever reason, she had not been delivered to her Maker or simply ceased to exist, whichever of the two or other marked the end of the journey known as "life".

She marveled at the fluorescent lights above and felt her buttocks growing cold the longer she lingered there on the floor.

_Whatever the case, I am dead._

But were they?

Thor hadn't been the room when she had "awakened". Surely then he was in the nursery with the boys?

* * *

It was half-past five when Loki looked down upon the wailing babes marked as "Thorson".

The one to his left was a small thing, the brown shock of hair upon his head marking him as his mother's son. That and his contrasting blue eyes would no doubt win over many maiden hearts in Midgard and Asgard alike. The one to his right was very bald and larger than normal, using the other newborns in the room to scale. Armed with a pair of strong brown eyes, he would be tall, brutish, and proud like his father Thor, of that he had no doubt.

_Thor. _

Loki peered over his shoulder and looked upon the man leaning haggardly against the large window. It shocked him mildly to note that shoving the Norse God of Thunder at this exact moment would result in no form of repercussion. Thor was that out of commission.

Loki craned his neck a bit more to see the Captain holding an odd contraption to his ear. A bit of trickery here and a little more there earned Loki the knowledge that the Captain's assessment of the situation was serious, grave even.

And correct this "Captain" was.

The man looking_ through_ his sons and emanating passivity would not be so distant come the morning proper.

Not by a long shot.

Even at a young age Thor had thought it proper to celebrate his victories with a pump of the fist or a joking taunt or when he got a bit older, a night with one of the local tavern wenches. The other side of the coin displayed a temperament to match: with his losses came fits of anger and frustration that were taken out on the environment. In fact, many a tree and vase had met their end that way.

_Your mother was a miracle worker to have tempered Thor in so short an amount of time, _Loki returned to gaze at his nephews. _I'll give her that much. _

Even so, that did not change the fact that Thor was an emotional man to his very core. Quite frankly, his brother was a ticking time bomb this Captain and his S.H.I.E.L.D people were not at all ready to handle.

_ Or I, for that matter. _

And this is where he came in.

Dealing with Thor the way he was now, or with the sorry state of a man he would no doubt become as a result of his woman dying... it would no doubt bring about a difficult and trying time for Asgard. As for Midgard, this realm did not concern Loki. The mortals were a diligent people, that he had learned first hand. They would find or create someone else if need be to replace his brother on that team of theirs.

Now, Asgard-

_ "You."_

The word was laced with such malice he almost jumped. _About time._

Loki looked up from his nephews and faced his interruption.

"I mean no harm to Wermund and Asmund," Loki stated as he quietly placed his hands behind him. "I haven't a clue which is which, but that aside, their names are a bit too strong, don't you think?"

Through half-lidded eyes the woman judged his intentions, watching for even the slightest movement signaling danger to her newborns. Her jaw was set even as she inched closer, no fear present at all in her demeanor.

_Good._ Loki observed, _She knows that she is dead. _

"Yes," Jane slowly answered, her body radiating the suspicion and state of alert her mind was in. "But Thor insisted they have names-"

"Worthy of a future King of Asgard, I suspect?" Loki nodded. "Yes, Thor has always had a perchance for grand names... as a young boy he named a giant tortoise after our grandfather."

He waited for a laugh that never came. _Tough woman. It truly was an enormous tortoise. _

Instead, she spoke. "What are you doing here? And..." she tensed. "Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Yes. But my secret is safe, as the dead tell no tales."

At that Jane flinched. Her eyes were downcast and heavy. Though she said nothing, her shoulders displayed resentment.

"Yeah, I figured out that much," Jane muttered looking at her sons, "is that why you're here? To taunt me?" Her eyes were brimming and threatening to spill a tear or two.

"No," Loki pointed over his shoulder with a thumbed fist. "I'm here because I do not want to deal with _that_."

The woman followed his thumb and gave a soft gasp, her tears and hostility suddenly forgotten.

Loki almost grinned as he let the image wash over her.

Let the woman see those blank eyes and that lost face. Let her envision the sort of man Thor could become. His brother wouldn't be the first nor the last man to lose a woman to childbirth. It had been a normal fact of life for generations and past men had learned to live with the pain and with great strength moved on.

But not Thor.

If there were even the smallest inkling of evidence telling him otherwise, Loki would not be here in this room with a dead woman and her bawling sons. Looking back, he'd been wise to consult the Völur. Loki recalled that even Odin himself had been known to seek them out for a glimpse of what the future held. The situation had changed much in Midgard since Odin's prime and because of that the Völur were incredibly difficult to track down.

But what he learned had proved well worth the search.

"Yours is a unique situation," he stated to Jane, whose face was alternating between confusion and worry. "Say the word and I can mitigate the situation."

_Say it, woman._ Loki pressed her with his eyes,_ Just say it._

Jane jerked her attention from Thor and looked rather incredulous, as if he'd suggested she eat an entire roasted boar. "Are you kidding me? How, by making me not dead?"

"No, but those details are for I and more capable... _people_ to worry about."

The dead woman was unconvinced. He could see that. In fact, she grew wary by the second. Why did people not defer to their betters and do as they were told?

"Surely you wish to be around to see your sons walk a little taller at the first signs of peachfuzz growing on their cheeks." Loki sighed, "Their father certainly did."

He knew it was a lie. Not the bit about Thor, though. The care and cultivation that his brother had shown in protecting the lone hair on his chest... one got the impression he was raising a prize heifer. Yes, Thor went into a fit when he learned Loki had plucked the hair in his sleep.

That memory of a time gone by caused a flicker of a smile to pass over his lips.

But that was all in the past.

_The past._

"It's now or never, woman," Loki grew impatient. "Make your decision."

Jane bit her lip showing signs of giving in to temptation, but in the end, she shook her head. "No. I don't know what your motivations are, or what the consequences may be. But above all," the dead woman looked straight into his eyes, "I don't trust you."

Loki gritted his teeth. How had Thor fallen for such a bullheaded woman?

He needed this to happen. Mistakes had been made in his handling of Odin, enough that key members in the court of Asgard were beginning to suspect something was off with their King. For the time being they attributed it to his old age, but soon enough they would press for Thor's succession. That would simply not do. Nothing must be allowed to shorten his time on the throne. Not Thor, nor those two sons of his. If all went well, they would not be around. The Völur had warned him of that.

_Tsk. She said it as if it were something to consider. _

"Very well then," Loki said coldly. "Stay dead. Drift into nothingness. Abandon this second chance."

And there it was. Like spotting a seagull after weeks at sea, he saw the faintest glimmer of doubt shadow her face.

And he honed in on it like a hawk.

"If I am not mistaken," Loki stepped closer to his nephews and grazed his hand over the bald-headed one, "you lost your own mother when you were young."

The woman remained quiet, but that did not matter. He could almost visualize the gears turning in her head.

_At last. _

It took much effort to keep from smiling from ear to ear.

* * *

In an uncharted cave down deep within the soils of Midgard, a small group of Völur gathered around a pit of burning embers.

"The Trickster wore the guise of the Allfather when he came to me," one said. "He thought himself clever, but I ignored the trespass and gave him what he came for."

"Very prudent," voiced the second, "for the woman has accepted Loki's offer."

"Our offer," corrected a third. "May the Gods forgive us, but in the Allfather's absence our wisdom dictates this is the best remedy for the realm."

* * *

A/N: Cripes, I apologize for the delay in updating. I got a massive dose of writer's block when I hit this point in the story. It came to the point where I just started writing and saw where it took me. In the end, I went through three major revisions before I began editing the final version. Thanks for your patience! R&R, Ladies and Gents!


End file.
